Just The One
by terrified
Summary: A one-shot. Sherlock and Molly revive an old memory that both thought the other had forgotten. [Rated T for suggestive themes]


_**A/N:** This is a random, almost crazy one-shot. I'd been listening to this song called 'Afterglow' all day whilst entertaining a thought I'd had about the pair for a long time about Molly having to change in front of Sherlock in a confined space. Rated T of course because it's a little suggestive. ;) Hope you like. xx_

* * *

 **Just The One**

It had happened that one time.

Only once.

She imagined they would forget it, that there would be no afterthought and certainly no afterglow.

No, it had happened that one time - just the one.

So it baffled her that they were now stowed away in a nostalgically tiny cabin on a massive ship, bound back for England after a harrowing case that had caused them to be flung halfway across the globe. She was surprised at the memories that returned, but made every effort to push them out of her mind.

"Terribly sorry about the transport back," Sherlock said, squeezing behind her as he lay down on the narrow bunk. Molly sat where she was on the edge of the tough mattress and merely glanced over in response before returning to undo the laces of her boots.

The pair of them rested quietly. Sherlock lay on his back. with his clasped hands over his chest as various thoughts made their way through his mind. Molly was too exhausted to speak and too tired to even lie down. She was grateful that she had gotten to sit down at all, and that they were on their way back to England.

She did want a change of clothes, however, and looked longingly at the small backpack she had managed to keep with her throughout their adventure. She knew there was a single fresh blouse in there and she yearned to sleep in it instead of the t-shirt she had on that was now sticky with sweat. Glancing over at the detective lying down behind her, she saw that his eyes were closed. Whether he was sleeping or traipsing through the mazes in his mind, she did not know. All that mattered was that his eyes were closed.

Gingerly, she stretched over for her backpack and pulled out the delightfully crisp and dry blouse. She lay it on her lap as she began to peel her t-shirt off. She slid out of the camisole she had (unwisely) worn under the t-shirt and sighed quietly when the air finally touched the skin of her back. She took a moment to cool off before throwing the blouse on, putting up her hair as she relished the little bit of ventilation there was in the cabin.

She had almost forgotten that a sleeping detective lay behind her. Molly was just about to put her blouse on when a single arm crept around her waist. It belonged to Sherlock Holmes who clearly had not been asleep and was now pulling her torso towards him. Molly's eyes widened in shock when she found herself face to face with the detective who stared back at her with a smirk on his lips.

"Did you think I was sleeping?" he whispered to her.

Molly tried not to roll her eyes and attempted to pull herself away, but she could hardly move an inch away from the detective.

"Did you?" he asked again, that smirk still playing on his lips.  
"Let go of me, Sherlock," she whispered back.  
"No." he answered.  
"Why not?" she asked, unable to determine whose heart it was that was beating out of whose chest.

Sherlock laughed dryly and let her go. Molly sat up immediately and rushed to put the blouse on. Sherlock watched her dress, amused.

"You act like you'd forgotten," he said, his eyes not once leaving her.  
"Forgotten what?" she asked, her steely eyes boring through his.  
"You're good," remarked Sherlock, turning his eyes to stare at the ceiling.

Suddenly, he sat up to face her squarely. Sherlock placed a gentle hand on the side of her neck and gently ran his thumb along her jawline.

"I remember, you know," he said.  
"What _do_ you remember?" asked Molly warily.

The detective smiled and pulled her towards him. He let their lips touch gently first, before moving in to kiss her slowly, taking in the sensation of her mouth against his. He smirked against her mouth when he felt her hands creep up slowly, one hand sliding around his waist and the other tugging at his collar. Slowly, they pulled apart, both a little short of breath. Her hand still gripped the edge of his collar, so Sherlock gently reached for that hand and clasped his fingers over hers.

"This," he answered, now smiling gently at her.

This time, Molly's steely eyes softened as she broke into a smile as well.

"How could I forget?" she whispered.

Both broke into gentle laughter, their foreheads touching as they leaned against one another.

"So, what say you?" he asked, kissing her gently against her neck.

Molly shut her eyes as she melted into his lips that moved against her skin.

"Just the one…" she teased, moving to kiss him as she pushed him down against the narrow bunk.

 **END**


End file.
